


Monuments of Imperial Russia

by helico_pter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angry Yuri Plisetsky, Cold Weather, M/M, Saint Petersburg, Sightseeing, Slash, Yuri Is Legal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-22
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-06 12:32:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14057085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helico_pter/pseuds/helico_pter
Summary: Otabek just wants to see some sights and Yuri just wants to know where they stand.





	1. Peter and Paul Fortress

**Author's Note:**

> This is for [Moony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moony/). She wanted a blizzard so I'm giving her a bunch of weather thinly disguised as a fic.

“This is bullshit!”

Freezing sleet pelts down from a dark and low-hanging sky over St. Peterburg's Zayachy Island. The grey curtain of plummeting snow veils off the Petropavlovskaya Fortress from the city and the promised view over the Neva River is lost. None of the few visitors to the fortress have dared to rise atop of the curtain wall of the Naryshkin Bastion except Yuri and Otabek. And Yuri is angry.

He is cold and wet and this is not what he wanted. He stands right on the edge of the wooden scaffold built on the wall and faces the storm. It is early March, just a week after Yuri's 18th birthday. “Global warming is a lie!” he screams into the void over the river. The wind takes his words and devours them. A flurry of sleet hits him in response.

Otabek is calm unlike the weather or Yuri. He grabs the back of Yuri's fluffy coat and holds him off from climbing over the railing and diving into the river to fight the weather. “That's not how climate change works,” he says.

“Go fuck yourself, Beka!” Yuri exclaims and stomps down the stairs back to the courtyard of the bastion. At least the wind is a little less biting and a little less horizontal in the lee of the fortress wall.

Otabek follows him down, unaffected by both the wind and Yuri's outburst. “The weather's not ideal,” he admits.

“Fuck you,” Yuri growls, tugging his windblown hood deeper over his head. Despite his words and anger he is not unhappy with Otabek. Frustrated maybe, but not unhappy. It is not even the fortress but the weather that angers him.

“Let's go back.” Otabek touches Yuri's elbow, or the elbow of his coat. Yuri is relieved because he had been ready to leave Otabek there if he had suggested they finish the tour of the fortress.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Yuri expels the words with force and refuses to look Otabek in the face. Sight-seeing is not how he thought he would spend his birthday week with Otabek.

They keep close to the walls on their way back to the Ioannovsky Bridge which is one of the connection points between the island and the mainland. The weather does not let up and Yuri is freezing and drenched by the time they get to the nearest metro station. They are not the only ones taking shelter from the sudden storm in the underground and the metro is filled to capacity.

Yuri lives only a few stops away in the centre of St. Petersburg but even that short trip is nearly impossible. When they finally exit the metro the wet blizzard has changed into a frozen one. The sodden snow has turned into flakes of tiny ice and the slush is fast freezing on the streets. They skate across the slippery snow to Yuri's apartment building.

Once inside Otabek takes Yuri wordlessly by the shoulders and pushes him against a wall and Yuri's anger dissipates in a breath. It leaves behind an expectant heat in his chest. The height difference between them has become minimal over the years so he does not have to look up at Otabek now.

It is dark in the doorway of Yuri's one bedroom flat so Otabek's eyes are just dark discs and there is little discernible expression in his face as he pulls off Yuri's mittens. He sandwiches Yuri's hands between his own. “Cold,” he remarks.

The heat in Yuri flashes into his face and out of his mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me,” he snaps and snatches his hands back. He has grown in height because he has grown in age and for the first time in his life he is living independently. All this should imply he is well able to take care of his own temperature issues.

He pushes Otabek away and struggles out of his puffy coat which the wet blizzard has made heavy and useless. Yuri is still cold but the irritation Otabek has caused makes him forget about it. The irritation is not only at Otabek's actions but also at the way Yuri feels himself reacting to them.

It is now almost two years since Otabek had gently rejected Yuri and then just as gently insisted on maintaining their friendship. It is not something Yuri can forget even if he wishes to. It still embarrasses him and even though Otabek never brings it up it remains between them.

So Yuri is frustrated. The friendship is important to him because Otabek is his only actual friend. He does nothing about it because he does not want to be rejected again. It is sometimes difficult not to conflate the resentment he has for Viktor with the mess of emotions involving Otabek and just violently dislike everyone.

“Hello, Puma Tiger Scorpion,” Otabek says suddenly, greeting Potya who has walked out of Yuri's bedroom. She chirrups sleepily at him and Yuri whirls around to go scoop her up into his arms.

“As if you're allowed to talk to my cat right now,” he sniffs and glares at Otabek. He knows Otabek does not deserve his anger but that just makes him spit more fire.

Otabek shrugs a bit and reaches over to touch Yuri's forehead like one would do with a cat. “My cat,” he says and then strokes Potya's forehead the same way. “My cat's cat.”

“Fuck right off, Beka!” Yuri snarls and spins around to stomp into his bedroom. He burns because he does not actually mind Otabek calling him his cat. It creates a flush of eagerness in him and that unbidden feeling is what makes his temper reignite.

Yuri's anger is a short-lived beast. It disperses into aggressive confusion while he changes out of his wet clothes in the bedroom. Potya sits on his bed and blinks slowly at him offering the kind of support only a cat can. He knows Otabek has an extensive family and many friends because he has seen their pictures and their comments on Otabek's Instagram. Sometimes he envies Otabek for all that. His only family lives in a different city and his only friend lives in a different country. He has his coach and he has peers but none of them are truly his friends. Sometimes, like right now, Yuri wishes he had someone to talk to.

“Fuck,” he mutters and looks over at Potya who, despite being a very important person in Yuri's life, offers no advice. She jumps off the bed and goes over to the door, pawing at it. She looks over at Yuri and meows once.

“He doesn't deserve your sympathy,”Yuri replies. He is equal parts annoyed and relieved Otabek gets along so well with Potya. He goes to open the door anyway and then stands in the doorway, looking over the combined kitchen and sitting room space.

The light is diffuse through the curtain of clouds and snow outside and through the curtains on the windows. The curtains are white and Yuri thinks they must be from Lilia because he has never bought any curtains in his life. Most of the linens in his life are simply things he was given while he lived with either Yakov or Lilia. The only furniture in the small space are a dark grey sofa and a small table with two chairs as well as a television which he only uses with his Nintendo Wii.

Potya has walked over to the sofa where Otabek sits cross-legged and hops onto it. She becomes a loaf of fur and Otabek is the only colour in the room. His skin is golden despite the ashen light and even the dark blue of his shirt seems warm. He looks up from his phone and while he has no overt expression Yuri thinks he looks content.

“You put your body on a shelf when you're not using it,” Otabek says.

Yuri exhales sharply. “What the fuck, Beka,” he complains.

“When you sleep you're not using your body so you put it on a special shelf,” Otabek repeats and looks at Yuri with a completely serious face. “A bed.”

Yuri stares at him, not sure if he can take this for three more days. “I guess,” he finally huffs, defeated by the ridiculous logic. He shuffles over to the kitchen side of the room and notices there is a steaming cup of tea on the counter.

“You were cold.”

Yuri looks at the cup and the steam swelling out of it and wants to explode. At least, in retrospect, he understands Viktor's reason for leaving. He did not and does not agree with it but he understands it now. Viktor was lonely. What he does not understand is why Otabek keeps being so goddamn nice to him.

“…Thanks,” Yuri says and grabs the cup. It is not too hot and the tea has steeped long enough to be flavourful but not overpowering. Of course Otabek would do this. He is kind and thoughtful and just _fuck him_. Yuri sips the tea vindictively and glares at the window.

“Let's visit the Ermitáž tomorrow.”

Yuri's gaze shoots over to Otabek who meets his eyes calmly.

“Are you fucking serious,” Yuri mutters. The day before they had visited the Isaakievskiy Cathedral and then the Mariinsky Theatre where they had also attended a ballet show. It had been nice but also strange. Yuri has lived in St. Petersburg for years but has never had the time or inclination to visit its many sights or cultural attractions.

“Yes,” Otabek replies and of course he is completely serious.

“It's just a bunch of old paintings!” Yuri scowls. The window rattles a bit in the wind and there is a faint howl in the corners of the room. It is an older building so the insulation seals around the windows are not the best. They are much like Yuri's temper which also rattles easily.

“It's history. It's a monument,” Otabek says. The same thing he had said about the cathedral, the theatre and the fortress.

“A monument to boredom and age!” Yuri puts the cup of tea down sharply, causing a clank loud enough to make Potya open her eyes and look at him. Otabek looks at him too.

“Yura,” he says softly and Yuri's stomach seizes because it is such a strange tone of voice. He feels on edge, always wanting more than Otabek gives. “The Ermitáž also houses almost a hundred cats.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Yuri says without thinking as the tension snaps and becomes nothing. “Museums don't house cats!” he adds and shoves his hands into the pockets of his hoodie. He glares at Otabek from under a curtain of his own hair.

Otabek is silent for a bit. Maybe he is finally catching onto Yuri's frustration. “The cats protect the artwork from rodents. You can even adopt one.”

Potya shifts and looks at Otabek too as though she understands what he is saying and Yuri agrees with her silent admonishment. “I already have a cat,” he says to defend her position. “And I don't want to visit any more _monuments_.” If he sounds petulant it is because he _is_ petulant and banging his temper against the impenetrable walls of Otabek's composure.

Otabek is silent for a longer bit. The window grows darker as the blizzard becomes worse and causes the window to jolt against its frames. Otabek remains unaffected but both Yuri and Potya jump with unease.

“I thought you wanted me to visit.” Otabek's words distract Yuri from the window and the storm. He snaps himself around to look at Otabek.

“Yeah, I did!” he says, raising his voice. “Of course I did! But give me a fucking break, Beka!” Maybe the storm is a manifestation of Yuri's torment. They both howl as loudly.

Otabek gets up off the sofa to square up against the tempest. “Yura,” he says. He is not afraid of Yuri's temper and smiles a little instead although it is a halting expression. “I don't mean to torture you with sightseeing. I just don't know what else I could… or if you… still…” he trails off.

“No!” Yuri snarls and steps up to Otabek, close enough to invade his personal space. Otabek's words have just confirmed he knows the exact reason for Yuri's ire. “You don't get to come here after years and do this to me!”

“I didn't have a choice.” Otabek does not back down. His cheeks have reddened slightly and there is a faint frown on his face now. “I had to say no back then. You were too young.”

Yuri sputters for a moment. Otabek had never told him the reason for his rejection. “ _Too young_!” he repeats with incredulity.

“Underage,” Otabek clarifies.

They stand almost touching. Yuri's hands are balled into fists and raised slightly but he is stalled there, trying to comprehend what Otabek has just confessed.

“If I'd told you then you wouldn't have taken it seriously,” Otabek adds quietly.

Yuri has no words but there is a storm both inside and outside. He finally lifts his hands and gives Otabek a shove. There is no strength behind it and Otabek does not step down. Yuri shoves him again but Otabek only catches his hands and holds them.

“Fuck you,” Yuri says breathlessly, feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him. Otabek is absolutely right, Yuri would not have taken that excuse seriously. Because to him it is just that, an excuse. But at the same time he understands it is more than that to Otabek. Otabek has rules. He is respectful and decent even with his rebellions.

“Yura…” Otabek says. His grasp is not tight but Yuri does not pull away. Mostly because he is considering kneeing Otabek in the crotch.

“And now that I'm 18 you're conveniently here.” Yuri's voice is low as well, but it is not soft. Nothing is soft; his whole body is rigid, even his eyes are stretched wide open. Otabek frowns more looking at him so he must see how strained Yuri is.

“I'm here because it's your birthday. Regardless of your age, regardless of your feelings for me. Or mine for you,” Otabek says with a hint of disappointment. Yuri's 17th had been on the road but even then Otabek had made the effort to be there. Yuri hates him for being that kind and thoughtful.

“Fuck off, Altin.” Yuri wrenches his hands back to himself and brushes past Otabek, hitting him with his shoulder. He snatches up his cat and then proceeds back into his bedroom. He does not slam the door because he does not want to startle Potya again.

Yuri climbs into his bed and grabs his headphones. Most of the music on his phone is from Otabek so he plays Cat Quest instead. Potya settles by his knees and watches the window which is whited out by the blizzard. The weather reminds of its existence with the occasional clatter of the window frames and a cold draft that whines in the gap under Yuri's bedroom door.

Because Yuri can't concentrate he soon quits the game and goes on social media instead. He misses being on ice. Or at least he thinks he does. It is all he has done for years, training every day, literally living on the edge of a blade. He is only a few days into his first ever holiday from skating and it is painful. Or maybe it is Otabek who is painful.

A message pops up and at first Yuri is ready to dismiss it, thinking it is from Otabek, but it is from Katsuki instead. Yuri is not thrilled with that either but he does not dislike Katsuki, even if he has the self-confidence of a wet noodle. Despite that he is not a bad skater and that is what matters. And he is not a manipulative drama queen like Viktor. He is probably the most normal person Yuri knows and is able to tolerate.

_How is the visit going?_

It is a simple question but Yuri just reads it over and over again. He feels sour and disappointed and is unable to answer for the longest time. _It's fine,_ he eventually types. _Leave me alone._

 _Tell Otabek hello from us._ The message is joined by a picture of Katsuki and Viktor waving at the camera.

Yuri just throws his phone down in disgust and crosses his arms, sulking and staring at the ceiling. Potya stretches and yawns and then curls up again, perfectly happy to nap. Yuri turns to grab his Olympic gold medal off his nightstand and lets it dangle from his hand. It turns slowly in the air but catches no light. The rest of his trophies spill from every drawer, cupboard, shelf and storage box in his room. Only the newest one is important.

There are many things he wants to tell Otabek but hello is not one of them. He drops the medal on the bed and fishes his phone out of the sheets.

 _Beka_ , he writes, _you made me wait._

He hears the beep of Otabek's phone in the other room. After a moment there is a reply.

_I made myself wait too._

Yuri's stomach clenches when he reads the message. He had not thought of that. It had never occurred to him that maybe the whole thing was difficult for Otabek too. Warmth travels from his chest outwards along his arms and legs as he realises that all this while Otabek must have thought of him the same way Yuri has thought of Otabek.

 _We can go to the stupid museum tomorrow._ Yuri taps in the words before he changes his mind and then shoves the phone away. It buzzes softly but he does not pick it up. He is not in the mood to give Otabek the last word today.


	2. Kirov Central Park

The morning following the blizzard is a foggy one because of weather conditions Yuri does not care about. It is slightly disorienting to look outside and see almost nothing, only ghosts of things behind the thick fog. Even sounds seem dampened and cold wells up from the bare floor of Yuri's flat. Yuri stands at his kitchen counter and measures things into a bowl, not trying to be quiet even though Otabek is asleep just across the room.

Cooking is not a skill that comes naturally to Yuri because he is not a patient person. However, because he now lives independently he tries a little harder. When Otabek gets up and comes over Yuri is furiously mixing a bowl of cottage cheese, eggs and sugar.

Potya, accompanying Yuri and sitting on the kitchen counter by him, chirrups almost inaudibly at Otabek and waits for him to come pet her. Which he does. “What are you making?” Otabek asks, quiet as well.

“ _Tvorozhniki_ ,” Yuri mutters without looking at Otabek.

“I didn't know you knew how to make them,” Otabek says. He keeps petting Potya who is appreciative and presses against his hand. Yuri gives her a sideways look. Traitor.

“Well, I do,” Yuri huffs. Cottage cheese pancakes are one of the few things Yuri does know how to make because his grandfather made them often and the recipe is easy.

“Yura, listen,” Otabek says after a moment. “Let's forget the museum and do something else today.”

Yuri flips his hair out of his eyes so he can glare at Otabek. “Like what? Visit some other old building?” He is not thrilled with Otabek right now and finds it difficult to look at him. And then he finds it just as difficult to look away from him.

“No, let's go skate. Outside. For fun.”

Yuri does not skate much for fun. But he loves skating—or competing—so there is not a clear line between work and play. “Like a public rink? He stops mixing the batter for a moment to think about it.

“Yeah.” Otabek smiles a little. “After the _tvorozhniki_. If you're up for it.”

Yuri starts mixing the batter again. Faster this time, elbows up. “Get your fucking skates ready, Altin,” he growls. They don't get to skate together all that much. And despite recent events, skating is always an activity Yuri cherishes.

The pancakes require a bit of time on the pan over low heat but Yuri is too impatient to do it properly so he burns half of them. It is not made easier by Otabek who stays by his side, leaning against the counter. He plays with Potya by letting her sniff everything he finds in Yuri's cupboards. It is obvious Otabek understands cat curiosity and Yuri finds it horrifyingly adorable. They clash briefly as Yuri reaches up to grab some plates and Otabek offers to do it instead.

“I'm as tall as you are!” Yuri reminds him loudly and climbs partly on the counter to reach properly.

“I know,” Otabek says and steps back to watch. “You grew up.” The comment gives Yuri slight pause because it is full of appreciation that has nothing to do with his skill at skating. His palms tingle and he has to remind himself to keep grasping the plates as he gets down. And Otabek watches with a face full of enjoyment.

When Yuri serves the pancakes Otabek does not complain about the burned bits, just piles them high with sour cream and some jam. The jam is handmade by Yuri's grandfather so Yuri feels a little homesick while eating it. But it seems Otabek understands that too because he distracts Yuri by talking.

“An outside rink won't have proper ice so no jumps,” he says.

“Oh my god, are you my coach,” Yuri responds, homesickness evaporating in the sun of his flaring temper. Not that he would attempt jumps on bad or uneven ice anyway. He is not a child. A fact that is now the centrefold of their relationship.

Otabek just finishes his breakfast under Yuri's glare. “Thank you, that was good,” he says. His face is perfectly serious and his eyes are intense. All Yuri can read from him is absolute sincerity.

“Are you fucking kidding me,” Yuri replies anyway. “I burned them.”

Otabek shrugs. “You made me breakfast,” he counters and Yuri realises this really is the first time he has cooked for Otabek. Everything else they have eaten so far during Otabek's visit has been either take-away or made by Otabek himself.

Yuri dismisses Otabek with a snort and turns to look out the window even if there is little to look at with the lingering fog. It is not that he refuses to engage with Otabek but that he is embarrassed at Otabek's earnest nature. Half of everything he is used to is theatre and Otabek tends to bypass all that. And it gets to Yuri a lot more than he is willing to admit. Because Yuri is staring out the window he does not see Otabek stand up but he does turn when he realises Otabek is leaning over the little table towards him.

“Thanks anyway,” Otabek says and briefly places his mouth on Yuri's forehead.

He leaves behind a touch of warmth when he pulls away and walks out of the kitchen. Yuri hears him head into the bathroom and start the shower. Potya hops into Yuri's lap and kneads his thighs for a bit before settling down with a purr. Yuri just stares at the remains of their breakfast.

He fucking loves Otabek.

Of course it is not a new realisation but it has never hit him this hard before. Not with this kind of immediacy and certainty and heat. He closes his eyes and leans his face in his hands.

“Fuck,” he mutters and Potya reaches up to nuzzle at his chin. It is a fleeting comfort in a situation verging on unbearable.

Yuri presses the heels of his hands against his eyes and rubs them vigorously. It is not that he has waited for this because after Otabek told him no with a flushed and guilty face Yuri decided there was nothing to wait for. After that he left even less space around himself for other people. Being in love is the worst thing.

By the time Otabek finishes showering Yuri has managed to dispel most of his uneasy mood and collected himself into his bedroom. He braids his hair and gets dressed for their outing and holds in his desire to triple Salchow his foot to Otabek's face. When he exits his room he sees Otabek standing by the window and decides being in love is the best worst thing.

They put on their coats in the little hallway and Yuri pairs his fluffy white coat with a fluffy white _ushanka_. It is mostly to try and keep his identity hidden in public but also because the weather seems cold. Suddenly Otabek reaches over to pet Yuri's hat.

“Ah, you must be the famous White Cat of Russia,” Otabek says. He does not smile but his voice is soft the same way when he tells Potya she is a beautiful cat.

“Hilarious.” Yuri swats his hand away anyway and puts on a pair of sunglasses. “Go fuck yourself, Beka. I'm leaving.” He does not stay to listen but he is sure he hears Otabek chuckle quietly before following him.

Yuri realises he actually has no idea where they are going after they step out on the street in front of his building. Layers of ice and snow make the pavement difficult to walk on and the fog is thick enough even at street level to hide traffic at the ends of the street. Otabek nudges Yuri and bids him to follow with a nod of his head.

“Kirov Central Park has artificial ice so its still open for skating,” Otabek explains and Yuri just shrugs. He does not skate at outdoor rinks and does not know any of them.

Yelagin Island and the park are only a short metro ride away. There is no wind so the fog has hardly moved when they reach the island and walk the rest of the way. The air is not cold any more but damp and heavy and it soon makes Yuri's sunglasses completely useless with condensation. Without them Yuri has to be a little more circumspect about looking at Otabek. He likes it when Otabek looks down and lowers his lashes so they almost touch the tops of his cheeks. Because Otabek's hair is so dark his lashes look very full and long and Yuri enjoys that for some reason. He wonders if he is becoming Viktor after all.

The park scenery is very monochromatic with the white of recent snow and the black of wet and leafless trees standing in the fog. There is little noise except when they get closer to the central plaza and start hearing the laughter and high-pitched voices of children. Soon after the noise the shapes of people become visible, gliding across ice. They go round and round a tree decorated with lights set in the middle of the plaza.

Yuri stops at the edge of the ice and stares.

“They look so stupid,” he says. He had forgotten that regular people are not Olympic level skaters and watching them try and stay in balance while moving forward is near painful. Otabek takes Yuri's sleeve and pulls him over to a bench but Yuri does not sit and still stares at the wobbly people on ice.

“Like ducks!” he scoffs. A child falls over and cries. Yuri pinches his mouth shut. He never cried when he fell, never still does. “Just get up and try again,” he mutters under his breath. It is not just children on the ice but adults too, some in couples trying to skate hand in hand.

“Yura,” Otabek calls his name and Yuri sits down with a thump and drops his skates. They are not ones he uses for competing or even training any more so he does not have to take care of them. Despite the weak efforts of the people skating he has to admit the fog and the lights on the tree do create a special atmosphere.

“Yura,” Otabek says again after a while and Yuri realises he still has not put on his skates. “Are you cold? I can do it.” He slides off the bench and picks up Yuri's foot to take off his shoe, ignoring the slushy snow.

“No-” Yuri starts but Otabek holds up his hand.

“Let me,” he says quietly and looks up with a calm face. Then he lowers his eyes and Yuri is captivated by the movement of his lashes again. He has been tying his laces of his shoes since he was three and the laces of his skates since he was five. It is strange to have someone else do it. It is beautiful to have Otabek do it.

They join the other skaters without speaking again. The ice is not as smooth as Yuri is used to but he does not have to give it much thought and he skates on automatic. After a bit Otabek moves in front of him and turns to face him. Otabek is sleek like a bird of prey in his dark clothes.

“Are you going to stop being angry at me?” he asks. He has his hands in his pockets and moves backwards effortlessly, matching Yuri's forwards speed. Because of the other people they do not move very fast.

Yuri holds out both of his hands without saying anything. He wears mittens with a blue cat eye on the back of both of them. Otabek looks at him and slowly lifts his own hands to grasp Yuri's but before he is able to do that Yuri pulls his hands back and flips him off with both. It does not translate very well because of the mittens but he figures Otabek can read the intention behind it. Then he turns sharply and skates in the other direction, against the flow of people.

He is not angry, not really, he just does not want to forgive Otabek yet. He skims across the ice, completing the small circuit over and over again as he gathers speed without realising it. He wonders if he could argue a smoke machine under the no props -rule for a routine. He does not notice the other people moving aside as he skates and spins and improvises, not until he performs a little toe loop and someone catches his hand almost immediately.

“Yura,” Otabek says, holding onto his hand. Although he has caught Yuri, he does not force Yuri's momentum to stop and they spin in place. “No jumps.”

“Beka,” Yuri replies, intending to follow with a variation of ‘fuck you’ but Otabek speaks before he can say anything.

“It wasn't easy to tell you no back then.” Otabek catches Yuri's other hand too and holds them, making him stay and listen.

“It wasn't easy being told no!” Yuri replies loudly, pulling against Otabek's grasp slightly. It is a memory he wishes he could leave behind. Even now it stings.

Otabek pulls Yuri a slight bit closer and they spiral slowly around the light-decked tree in the middle of the ice. “It's not no any more.”

Trees, fog, people faces, raised hands with phones, these things flash by Yuri's vision as they pirouette. They do not register fully as he stares at Otabek and tries to uphold his grudge. Too late, he wants to say but he does not have even those simple words.

But here they are, orbiting each other, and Yuri does not know why. Why Otabek? Why no one else? Why Otabek _still_?

Yuri throws himself into things and now he wants to throw himself into two opposite directions. Which is the cause of his hesitation.

“I guess I deserve this.” Otabek's expression changes into one of dismay when Yuri does not reply at first.

“You know what, fuck you. Just fuck you for this and fuck you for back then,” Yuri says finally and then feels pretty calm afterwards. This time it is he who does not let go of Otabek's hands. “You owe me.”

Otabek says nothing but pulls Yuri closer and then they are distracted by a camera flash and a young girl squealing in excitement.

“It _is_ him! Yuri Plisetsky!”

Yuri swears under his breath and turns to skate back to the bench. It is inevitable to be recognised and he should have worn the sunglasses despite the lack of sun. He shoves them back on and tears open the laces of his skates to get them off. Otabek joins him on the. The girl and her friends/family don't quite follow but gather nearby with their phones aimed at them. It would not be the first time pictures of him and Otabek would end up on the internet. There had been such a rumour mill concerning the two of them after Barcelona and it restarted every time they were spotted out together.

Except this time the rumours might be correct.

They flee the park hand in hand. They cross a bridge to get back to the mainland. The Neva delta shatters the seaside of St. Petersburg into several islands and canals. The convergence of warmer water and colder air causes more fog to pour off the canals and dance on top of the unfrozen waves. Otabek stops to take a picture of the scene and posts it while they walk back towards Yuri's flat. They stop at a tea room on the way.

At the tea room when Otabek looks down at his cup and stirs in black cherry jam for sweetness Yuri takes a picture of him. Then, to accompany it, he takes a selfie too. Or rather, a series of them so he can post the nicest one. His lack of posts on Instagram had probably been the reason Katsuki had reached out, but Yuri had wanted to keep Otabek's visit for himself for a bit. Not a secret, but as a treasure of his own.

“Which one?” he asks, showing Otabek the pictures. He is fully aware Otabek has just watched him take them.

“This,” Otabek says after looking through the pictures. His eyes linger on Yuri when he hands back the phone.

“What?” Yuri thinks Otabek seems very at peace which is calming for him too. He realises with some surprise he can tell when Otabek is relaxed and when not despite Otabek not showing that much emotion. And now it is obvious Otabek had not been relaxed before this moment.

“We can go to the Ermitáž tomorrow," Otabek says and slowly stirs his tea. “If you still want to.”

“I never-” Yuri starts, then huffs. “Whatever. If there's cats.” And if it is with Otabek.

Because it is not especially cold or windy they walk the rest of the way from the tea room to Yuri's flat. Yuri still feels on edge but it is a different precipice than before. After getting back and greeting Potya they have a long and exhausting Just Dance battle. Yuri declares himself the winner and Otabek does not object but insists they watch reruns of Planet Earth afterwards.

Yuri pays little attention to the show because he is able to lie against Otabek and play Cat Quest instead. When he gets bored with that he goes on Instagram and scowls through a series of ridiculous pictures from Katsuki and Viktor in Hasetsu. He hits Otabek's picture of the foggy bridge and river after a while and notes a commenter who he has seen often before.

“Hey,” he says and looks up at Otabek. “Who's this?” He can't actually read Kazakh so he does not know what she is saying.

“My ex,” Otabek says after glancing at Yuri's phone. He has rested his arm on Yuri and bent it up so he can play with the tip of Yuri's braid.

“You're still friends with her?” Yuri asks. He has his head on Otabek's thigh.

“Yeah.” Otabek resumes stroking Yuri's hair slowly.

“You're a fucking weirdo,” Yuri snorts. Of course Otabek is friends with his ex. All of them, probably. Just like he was friends with Yuri all this time. “She still likes you.”

“Yeah.” Otabek nods, his eyes back on the telly.

Yuri looks up at him, realising Otabek is not surprised by Yuri's claim nor does he attempt to deny it. “Why'd you break up?” he asks.

This time Otabek tilts his face down and looks back at Yuri. He does not smile but there is a softness to his expression. “Because you kissed me and I liked it.”

Yuri feels himself blush and knows it shows because his skin is pale. Even his hands get hot. It had been after a qualifier they had both competed in. Yuri had just gone for it and Otabek had held him so tight. But it was a bittersweet memory because it had also been when Otabek rejected him, right after that kiss.

“But you told me no,” Yuri says, scowling. It still upsets him.

“Yeah,” Otabek nods again. “But then I also knew I'd rather wait for you than be with her.”

Yuri sits up, face heating up even more and punches Otabek in the arm. “That's some Viktor-level bullshit right there!”

“But true.” Otabek rubs his arm but does not seem otherwise bothered by it. “And I imagine it is for Viktor too, whenever he says the things he says.”

“Gross,” Yuri mutters under his breath. It is not aimed at Otabek as much as it is aimed at the idea of Viktor being romantic. Yuri used to respect him but his erratic behaviour with Katsuki completely ruined that.

“I told you I had to wait too,” Otabek says then and Yuri almost punches him again.

“I didn't ask you to!” he snaps loudly enough to make Potya sit up from her perch on the back of the sofa. “Sorry,” he adds, only contrite about disturbing his cat.

“No, but I hope you're happy I did.”

“Not really!” Yuri huffs but then lays back down, thumping his forehead against Otabek's thigh. A slow shudder works its way through his body when he feels Otabek touch his hair again and then trace the outer edge of his ear. Despite his protest he wants Otabek so much. He wants this person who thinks he is worth waiting for.

“I'm happy I did,” Otabek says, voice very quiet. Yuri digs his knuckles into the side of Otabek's thigh because no one is that decent and nice. Except Otabek. Fucking Otabek.

But Yuri is happy too.


	3. The Hermitage State Museum

Sunlight seeps into Yuri's bedroom through the curtains. He watches the stream of light for a moment until he realises he is awake. He does not remember where these curtains came from either but he gets up and pushes one half of them aside and look out. The sky is vivid blue and almost cloudless and the sun sparkles off puddles and off the last remnants of snow. It is too bright and Yuri pulls the curtain in front of the window again.

Potya stretches herself in the shape of a triumphal arch and yawns, then elongates off the bed, pointing both of her back legs backwards one at a time. Yuri grins and stretches too, first reaching up, then down, folding his upper body against his legs. He stays like that for a moment before heading out of his room.

Otabek is already up and making breakfast, wearing pyjama pants and a tank-top. He leans down to touch Potya's forehead when she rubs against his legs, then looks up at Yuri and nods. “Morning,” he says.

“Mornin',” Yuri croaks, finding his mouth dry. He stares at Otabek for a moment and Otabek looks back with a slightly tilted head, asking all sorts of unvoiced questions Yuri has no ability to answer. He hurries into the bathroom instead.

He spends his shower in a daze and when he is drying himself he has no idea how or if he even washed his hair. He steps out in a towel to see Otabek playing videos off his phone to Potya. She sits on the table and watches intently.

“I wasn't sure if she'd seen all your performances,” Otabek says when Yuri moves a little closer to see what is going on.

Yuri opens his mouth to tell Otabek what an absolute nerd he is being but then notices Otabek's gaze falling off his face and dipping down. “Beka!” he snaps and marches into his room to put on clothes. He blushes the whole way through but it is a somewhat self-satisfied blush.

Otabek's breakfast turns out to be a proper balanced meal of lean protein and slow carbohydrates, just the things an athlete should eat. "Who the hell has broccoli for breakfast?" Yuri insists but eats it anyway. It is delicious.

They pick up sweet breakfast teas on their way to the State Hermitage Museum and finish them by the Alexander Column on the square in front of the Winter Palace. Remnants of grey snow persist in shadows and in corners and the picturesque effect of it is gone. But the sky is dazzling and Yuri has great reason for his Aviators.

They approach the Winter Palace which is only one of the six massive buildings on the Palace Embankment that make up the Hermitage Museum. Otabek takes a picture of the pale teal exterior of the palace before they enter the museum proper.

“It looks like the river,” he says then.

“What,” Yuri says. The Neva river lies just behind the museum but it is not visible between the buildings so he is not sure what Otabek is talking about.

“It's blue and it sparkles,” Otabek continues, gesturing at the palace. And the sun does glint off the multitude of windows and golden embellishments of the building like it does a river's surface. The blueish-green colour of the walls adds to the effect.

Yuri squints at the building. “I guess,” he sighs. He only sees how vast it is and that discourages him.

They head in to buy tickets and within the first ten minutes Yuri is already overwhelmed. There are so many corridors and so many pavilions and arched ceilings with gilded detail and painted scenery, hung with probably priceless chandeliers. Rooms upon rooms and wings upon wings, filled with paintings, sculptures, jewellery and other forms of art Yuri did not even know were considered art. After the first hour it all becomes a blur of myriad shapes and colours without meaning to Yuri. After the second hour he realises he still has not seen a single cat. When they stop in yet another bewildering but gorgeous hall filled to the brim with just as bewilderingly gorgeous art Yuri is starting to think Otabek should have invited Viktor instead of him.

The frustration and boredom boils in him until it bubbles over. "What's so great about Imperial Russia, anyway?" he grumbles, hands deep in the pockets of his hoodie and sunglasses teetering on his forehead. Despite his mood he speaks quietly because the space seems to demand it. "It was like hundreds of years ago."

"Just a little over a hundred," Otabek corrects him, looking at yet another portrait of a long-dead Russian nobleman.

"Oh, fuck off," Yuri groans. "It's all the same." All the tsars and grand dukes and duchesses and their portraits and horses and Yekaterina Velikaya and Pyotr Alexeyevich and Yuri can't keep track of them. They all look the identical in their pictures, with beards and moustaches and funny hats. Even the women.

“I think they're all right,” Otabek says and turns to look at Yuri. “But you're the most beautiful Russian thing."

Yuri sputters like a surprised candle at that because it is _so cheesy_. And he still blushes like a particularly happy radish from his grandfather's back garden. He lets his sunglasses drop onto his nose and ducks his head so his hair falls over his face.

"Oh my god," he says, voice a little hoarse from trying to hold back the sudden upsurge of emotions. "You're worse than Viktor."

"Should I be worried you keep comparing me to Viktor? I know you don't like him."

Yuri lifts his face to look at Otabek. He had not thought of that. "He just talks big and you never know what's real," he mutters. "I hate it."

Otabek runs a hand through his hair and looks around the pavilion. They are somewhere in the 18th century section of the permanent Russian art exhibit and although they had arrived there only after visiting six centuries worth of earlier art Yuri has hardly any recollection of any of it. Otabek looks thoughtful or worried or something, Yuri can't really tell.

"So you think I'm doing the same?" Otabek finally says.

"No!" Yuri replies louder. "I know you aren't. I just… it always reminds me of him," he adds the last part with a quieter voice again.

"It's okay, Yura. I get it." Otabek nods.

They are silent for a bit and Yuri bumps into Otabek's side and leans against him. "Where's the cats?" he mumbles.

"I don't think they're are allowed up here when the museum's open," Otabek replies. "I really wanted to see museum cats," he continues and something about his tone of voice says he has thought about museum cats a lot.

"What, you think they're different from regular cats?" Yuri huffs.

"They live in a museum, they'd be more cultured," Otabek says softly and Yuri laughs, both from dissipating tension and because it is nice to see Otabek blushing for a change. But then Otabek smiles too and nudges Yuri. "Let's go. No cats, no point in staying."

"Wait a minute. Did you drag me here just so you could see cultured museum cats?" Yuri is incredulous and grabs Otabek's arm briefly as he starts to leave.

A moment of sheepishness passes over Otabek and he sighs. "Yeah."

"What about the art!" Yuri can't believe he is attempting to argue in favour of the art.

"It's good too." Otabek takes Yuri by the sleeve and starts leading him back towards an exit. "But not as good as museum cats," he adds under his breath.

Yuri says nothing because at this moment he is speechless and overcome with incredulity. It warms up to delight as they walk out of the museum and into the chilly but bright outside. They take the route along the river embankment this time and Otabek takes several pictures, some of Yuri, some of the city. The Petropavlovskaya Fortress they had visited the day before yesterday is also visible across the flat waters of the Neva river. The river's surface is alive with wide swaths of sparkles and Yuri completely understands Otabek's comparison between it and the façade of the Winter Palace.

Suddenly Otabek stops and turns quickly, fumbling with his phone to get a picture of something. "Cat!" he says and Yuri turns to look too. An orange cat has appeared on the embankment and looks at them for a moment before loping off. They stare after it even after it disappears. Then Otabek holds up his phone.

“I got it,” he says, displaying the blurry picture.

"Fucking ridiculous," Yuri says but he is grinning. He loves it.

Their encounter with the cat leaves them both energised so they decide to head towards the Yubileyny Sports Centre where Yuri trains along with the rest of Russia's most elite skaters. It is not far from the historic city centre area where the museum is so they walk. On the way they end up buying some junk food which they eat in the stands of the figure skating rink.

Yuri slouches down in his seat and braces his feet on the back of the seat in front of him, slurping his soda loudly when some of his training mates stop by to say hello. Mila spends a while sitting with them and flirting with Otabek but Yuri does not feel threatened by her. He has seen her long line of suitors and knows she thinks skating comes first. It just makes him realise how much the romances he has seen on and off the ice annoy him. To him Georgi's obsession with Anya is just as batshit as Viktor and Katsuki's will-they-won't-they circus.

He side-eyes Otabek and is quietly glad Otabek is not like any of them. He is equal parts cool and intense but most of all he is a space-brained nerd who sends Yuri cat gifs and links to internet arguments about dogs wearing pants. That part is the one that reminds Yuri not everything is drama and theatre.

While Otabek and Mila chat Yuri plays with his phone and finds himself tagged in a picture making the rounds on social media. He recognises it as the one taken by the fan in Kirov park. Normally he would be absolutely furious but he actually likes the picture. It looks peaceful, with Otabek holding his hands and staring intently at him with the foggy white backdrop and the lights on the tree just blurry starbursts behind them. It has been shared over and over, including people Yuri actually knows. He also has another message from Katsuki.

 _You look happy. Congratulations_ , it simply says.

 _Fuck off,_ Yuri writes immediately. Then, after a moment's thought, adds: _But yeah. And thanks._

He tunes into the conversation between Otabek and Mila when she laughs. "Oh no," she says. "He didn't tell us at all you were going to visit. Just said he needed time off. Everyone was so worried!" They both look at Yuri who takes a loud slurp of his drink.

"'Cause it's none of your business if I want time off," Yuri says with a sniff. There is enough attention on his relationship with Otabek as it is.

"Is that YURI?" They are interrupted by Yakov's booming voice from the rinkside. "If he's not here to train he can go home!" Yakov had not been happy Yuri had wanted time off in the first place but had agreed to it under duress.

Yuri shoots up from his seat. "FINE, old man!" he yells back. He shoves his empty soda cup at Mila and tramples to the exit aisle. "You're lucky I didn't quit like _Viktor_!"

"Ooh, low blow," Mila mutters.

Yuri can hear Yakov yelling something almost the whole way out and when Otabek catches up to him Yuri just shrugs. "I'd never quit," he says. "But mentioning that and Viktor always gets him going. It's pretty funny."

Otabek says nothing but Yuri can see there is a hint of disapproval to his placidness. "He knows I'm kidding," Yuri adds, going on the defensive. This time it is Otabek who shrugs and the issue is dropped.

Because it is the last day of Otabek's visit they return to Yuri's flat by way of a grocery store so Otabek can cook them supper later. But at home Yuri finds himself unable to sit down or calm down. He challenges Otabek to a few games of Wii Tennis but can't concentrate properly and just ragequits. Afterwards he just bounces from wall to wall while Otabek amuses Potya and watches him.

"You okay?"

The question makes Yuri turn around and look at Otabek. He had been standing at the window, breathing mist onto the glass and staring out at the street and the river canal. "You're leaving tomorrow," he says.

Otabek tilts his head and scratches Potya under the chin thoughtfully. The cat sits in his lap, looking satisfied. "Ah," Otabek says, face and voice both soft.

"That's all you have to say?" Yuri demands, glaring at Otabek who is looking down at Potya.

Otabek lifts his head and gives Yuri a smile so radiant Yuri feels warmth sweep across his body. "I'm happy," Otabek says. "You don't want me to go."

Yuri snorts to downplay his embarrassment. He crosses his arms and flips his hair but he is warm and blushing and he really does not want Otabek to go. "I changed my mind. I think you should leave and go fuck yourself," he mutters.

"Yura," Otabek says, completely unfazed by his swearing as usual.

"No!" Yuri insists although he does not know what he is protesting. He turns on his heel to go stare out the window again. As ridiculous as it is, the chill seeping in through the old window fittings is comforting. He hears Otabek shift and get up and then come stand behind him. Just as Yuri is about to whirl around he feels Otabek put his arms around him and press his face in the crook of Yuri's neck.

"I'm going to miss you," Otabek murmurs.

"Ugh," Yuri opines even though his eyes fall shut and his body fills with heat as though he was a river stone left in the sun. "Are you dying or something?"

Otabek squeezes Yuri a little tighter. "No," he says, entirely serious. “But leaving you will feel like it.”

Yuri elbows Otabek and then pulls away from him. “Beka,” he complains, turning to look at Otabek. “Can you not.” But he is almost certain Otabek is just trying to distract him.

“Help me peel the potatoes,” Otabek says and Yuri goes quietly. It is not what he wants to do but none of this is.

And at night, after a drawn-out supper where Yuri was overtaken with growing dread and ate too much he lies in bed and stares at the door. "Beka," he calls out.

"Yeah?" comes the muffled reply.

"Come here," Yuri says and listens to Otabek getting up and coming over to open the door a little.

"What's wrong?"

"Sleep with me," Yuri invites. Otabek does not move for a bit and Yuri hurries to add: "Just sleep."

"Okay." Otabek slips in and closes the door behind himself, then gets carefully in the bed so as not to disturb Potya too much. He mirrors Yuri's position and lies on his side. Yuri reaches over and touches Otabek's lips with his fingers, then wiggles forward and kisses him.

The kiss and having Otabek put his hand gently on his cheek make Yuri feel vulnerable. He does not like it but he can't escape it. "This is stupid," he mumbles. Yuri kisses him again and his stomach fills with fizzy energy as though he was an over-agitated bottle of soda.

It is dark and quiet around them and Yuri can both smell and taste the toothpaste from Otabek brushing his teeth just a little bit earlier. Otabek, in turn, runs his thumb over Yuri's lips and follows it with a kiss. It makes Yuri's palms tingle and heat rise into his face. When Otabek draws away Yuri gasps for breath.

"Why stupid?" Otabek asks and Yuri's train of thought has to circle back.

"You leave tomorrow," he manages to reply, trying to hold his voice steady. "It's stupid to do this now. It's too late."

Otabek moves his hand to push a strand of Yuri's hair off his forehead, then trails that same hand over Yuri's shoulder and down his arm. "Then will you wait until I can visit you again?"

Yuri grasps at the front of Otabek's tank top and stares at his dark eyes, completely black in the night of Yuri's bedroom. "Yeah," he says, grinding the word out between his teeth. He feels tense and exhausted as though he has held a sit spin all evening without a way out of it.

Otabek's lips draw into a faint smile. "Can I still sleep here tonight?" he asks.

"Yeah," Yuri repeats. No wonder Viktor had fucking quit to follow Katsuki around. "And fuck you."

Otabek flashes a quick grin at Yuri. "Hey, I hope. One day."

It makes Yuri punch him in the arm and wrench himself around to sleep with his back to Otabek. Or at least pretend to.


	4. Pulkovo Airport

When Yuri wakes up the following morning Otabek is already in the shower. Yuri finds himself too heavy to move and stays in bed, staring a the window. There is no sunlight today, just a damp greyness which sucks the colour out of everything. Even Potya's eyes are a pale ashy colour instead of their normal blue when she settles onto Yuri's chest and looks at him.

“I think I'm sick too,” Yuri whispers and pets her softly. He does not often linger in bed but when he does he is sick and she knows this. Yuri closes his eyes and listens to the dual purr of his cat and the running water.

Potya continues to purr when the shower stops and Yuri listens to Otabek move about the flat. Getting dressed, packing, whatever. Yuri does not want to think about it. He does not even open his eyes when there is a quiet knock on his door.

“You up?” Otabek asks in a soft voice. And when Yuri makes no reply he comes in and sits on the edge of the bed. “Yura?”

As long as he does not open his eyes he is still asleep and it is not the day of Otabek's departure. The mattress dips in a different direction when Otabek shifts his weight on it and touches Yuri's forehead the same way he does to Potya.

“Are you dying?” he asks, echoing Yuri's own words from the previous day although without the mocking undertone.

Yuri heaves a breath and opens his eyes to look up at Otabek. “Yeah,” he says. He is dying. What other explanation is there for the utter desolation he feels in every corner of his body.

Otabek frowns a bit and shakes his head. His hair is still damp and combed back. “I can't stay for your funeral. I start training again tomorrow.” He leans down on one elbow and cups Yuri's face with his free hand. “And so do you,” he says. “Yakov would kill you if you died now.”

Yuri snorts loudly because he can feel the corners of his mouth trying to stretch up into a smile. He does not want to smile. He wants to be angry and bitter and frustrated because his time with Otabek is always running out.

“And what's worse,” Otabek continues, leaning closer. “Viktor would make a come-back and beat your record.”

“All right! Fuck.” Yuri sits up, cradling Potya, and glares at Otabek. “Why are you okay with this?”

“Leaving? I'm not,” Otabek sighs. And even though Otabek seems calm on the surface Yuri can suddenly see the dark shadows under his eyes and the tension around his mouth. Somehow it makes his face even sharper than usual. “But I want you to come with me to the airport. I want to be with you until the last minute possible.”

The dangerous levels of sap coming out of Otabek's mouth force Yuri out of bed but he feels gratified he is not the only one who hates this. He does not want to go back to long-distance with Otabek and it is a slight comfort that Otabek probably wants it even less. He brushes his teeth and throws on clothes, black to match Otabek, and then stands in the living room area and stares at the now empty sofa. Otabek has already packed.

“Eat something,” Otabek urges.

“No,” Yuri says, a little bit choked because he has absolutely no appetite.

“Yura,” Otabek says very softly, in a voice that makes Yuri squirm. Not because it makes him uncomfortable but because it makes him feel like he is on fire, thrilled and hot. Otabek must know that because he reaches out and curls his hand around the back of Yuri's neck and pulls him close to kiss.

Yuri remembers this. This is exactly the way Otabek held him the first time they kissed. This firm and strangely desperate embrace. But it is not all the same either; Otabek does not push him away but kisses him over and over again. Yuri does not know how to react to the nervous energy growing in himself and pushes at Otabek with his fists and then pulls at him. He eventually just wraps his arms around Otabek, hands still balled into fists, and presses his knuckles into him while they kiss.

Otabek lingers on Yuri's lips even when they pull apart. The pressure, warmth and taste remain and Yuri finds it hard to look up at Otabek. When he does he finds a flushed face and a pair of hooded eyes looking back at him. His whole body hurts at the sight. It is like exhaustion after a competition, all of his muscles wanting to give out in one blissful breath.

“It's time to go,” Otabek says. “You're still coming, right?”

Yuri makes a face but nods. “Yeah.”

Otabek gives Potya a sombre goodbye as they leave and Yuri wants to tell him off for being ridiculous and adorable at the same time. But he feels as bleak as the weather and stays quiet.

The trip to the airport is grim and Yuri keeps his hood up and sunglasses on. He spends their time on public transport looking out the window and moves sluggishly out when they arrive. Airports are extremely familiar places to him and St. Peterburg's Pulkovo airport even more so. He has departed and arrived there countless times and only very rarely visited it just to go back home. And he has found no airport that is pleasant to spend time in.

They walk slowly and without speaking to the security point. There is a short line but Otabek does not join it immediately. Instead he turns to Yuri.

“I'd like to visit the Amber Room next time,” he says. “It'll have to be in the summer.”

“This summer?” Yuri feels suddenly hopeful. The summer is not that far away. A few months. He does not care why it needs to be in the summer. He does not even know what the Amber Room is and really does not even care.

Otabek shrugs a little but reaches out and takes Yuri's hand briefly. They are in public and Russia still does not have the most accepting of atmospheres. “I don't know. Some summer.”

Yuri huffs and fusses with his sunglasses for a bit. “Your birthday's in October,” he says. “How'd you like it if I showed up in Almaty and dragged you around to see your stupid monuments.”

Otabek smiles. “I'd love that,” he murmurs and moves a bit closer to Yuri. Yuri has to look away because he really really wants to kiss Otabek and he can't.

“Ugh,” he grunts. Of course Otabek would fucking love that. “Fine. I'll do that then.” He does not even know if he is free in October. He hopes he is. He is going to make sure he is. He looks back at Otabek, glad that he is hidden behind his sunglasses.

“I'll call you as soon as I land, okay?” Otabek says as Yuri is fiercely trying to memorise his face. But it is not like video calls have not been invented. He is going to see Otabek's face just fine even if they are not in the same country.

“I'm not your mother,” Yuri argues.

“Yeah, but I want to call you,” Otabek nudges him. “And tell you how much I miss you.”

Yuri takes a deep breath and rolls his eyes but then surges forward and hugs Otabek tightly. “You better fucking miss me,” he grumbles. This feels almost as bad as losing to JJ.

Otabek holds him just as close but says nothing. When they step apart Yuri ducks his head and barely looks as Otabek heads through security. He scowls but waves as Otabek moves away and then turns to leave. He has not gone very far when his phone beeps. He digs it out and reads the message Otabek has sent.

 _I love you_.


End file.
